“Literature was not born the day when a boy crying “wolf, wolf” came running out of the Neanderthal valley with a big gray wolf at his heels; literature was born on the day when a boy came crying “wolf, wolf” and there was no wolf behind him.”  Vladimir Nabokov, Lectures on Literature

Take us to the moment of realization. Begin at the clothesline with: “Wolf, wolf…”

 photo: Paolo Neo